


What Happens in Gondor

by lilithiumwords



Series: Where Forever We Remain [1]
Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Accidental Plot, Alternate Universe - Fusion, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Bit of angst here and there, Explicit Sexual Content, Flirting, Gandalf is a Troll, Like really explicit, M/M, Not to mention the PLOTPLOTPLOT, Oblivious Bilbo, One Night Stand, Outrageous Flirting, Reincarnation, Smut, They are IMPOSSIBLE to separate, Thorin and Bilbo are beans, Thorin has feelings and doesn't know how to express them, so much sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-03
Updated: 2014-09-03
Packaged: 2018-02-15 23:23:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,348
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2247225
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lilithiumwords/pseuds/lilithiumwords
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The one night stand that Bilbo will always regret leaving behind.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What Happens in Gondor

**Author's Note:**

> I present the prequel to [Office Hours](), because apparently I can't write smut without adding a boat load of plot. Please enjoy the frankly ridiculous amount of sex.
> 
>  **References/Word Meanings:**  
>  Periani -- from Quenya, meaning "halflings"  
> Hyallondie Room -- from Quenya. Hyallondie was an old name for Gondor.  
> Casari -- from Quenya, meaning "dwarves"  
> Atani -- from Quenya, meaning "men"  
> Quendi -- from Quenya, meaning "elves"  
> Aldburg -- a city in southern Rohan  
>  _vanwe handë_ \-- Quenya for "lost knowledge"  
>  _harwë_ \-- Quenya for "treasure"

The Academic Symposium was a week-long string of conferences held annually in whatever country had competed for the honor of its patronage. Bilbo Baggins, Professor of Literature (and sometimes Women's Studies, Periani Studies, and Philosophy, but not so much recently), was pleasantly surprised when his friend Guthrie Hildin found him a two-day ticket and invited him to share a hotel room.

Gondor had won the honor of hosting the convention this year, and the illustrious and historical city of Minas Tirith shone in the sunlight as Bilbo's train approached along the countryside. He nearly salivated with glee; sadly, he could not afford to stay longer than two days, but he could certainly squeeze in some sightseeing (and perhaps a visit to their most impressive library) while Guthrie was busy.

He arrived bright and early, riding a trolley up to meet Guthrie in front of the hotel connected to the convention hall. Since Guthrie had ordered tickets ahead, there was no ridiculously long queue for either of them. After settling into their room, the two men picked up a packet from a large table in the main hall and went to sit by the fountain in the atrium of their hotel, which was hosting approximately a third of the panels, including Guthrie's lecture.

"Oh, Lord Elrond himself has a panel on Friday! If only I didn't have to teach that summer class all week," Bilbo bemoaned, clutching his schedule with dismay.

"I'll record it, if you like," Guthrie said slyly, and Bilbo beamed at him.

"I knew I kept you around for a reason," he replied happily, making Guthrie guffaw. "Says here that you're in the Hyallondie Room, set for 11 AM. Shall we grab some brunch then head over? The panel before yours looks interesting."

"You're such a Perian," Guthrie sighed, shaking his head, while Bilbo snorted and tried to look offended. "You ate breakfast on the train! I swear, Bilbo, your stomach has no limit. Did you know your ancestors used to eat seven meals a day? Where do you put it all?" He squinted at Bilbo's petite figure, which made Bilbo frown at him.

"Come off it, I just like food. Let's go!" he said, his cheer returning, grabbing his friend's arm and dragging him off.

~

Later, they found seats near the front of the room, early enough that they could sit together. Not many people were sitting around them, save a tall, dark-haired man in front of Bilbo, but considering they were sitting to the right of the stage, it wasn't a terrible inconvenience to look past him.

The lights dimmed slightly, and a very tall old man in a grey suit with white hair and a soft, grizzled beard, cut short in the current style, walked onto the stage. Guthrie made a sound of surprise.

"Who's that now?" Bilbo whispered, and Guthrie leaned over.

"Mithrandir. He's an old name, but he's got some good ideas. I'll send you some of his papers later."

Bilbo nodded and sat back again, his gaze drawn to the dark-haired man in front of him. He seemed familiar and yet Bilbo knew they had never met; he was quite good-looking.

"We know that our world has gone through seven ages," Mithrandir said sagely. "The golden three before the Age of Darkness left countless texts for our study, and in too many ways, those three Ages mirror the last three that we have lived as a civilization. Ninety-five percent of those descended from the Periani people, eighty-nine percent of Casari descendants, sixty-seven percent of those descended purely from Atani tribes, and fifty-six percent of those of Quendi descent share names and family lines with records kept from before the Fourth Age. Whether we settled into compliance with history records, or if these patterns indicate something deeper in our genetic history, remains to be seen.

"We know that those of Periani descent used to be much smaller, as did the Casari. We know that Quendi tribes once ruled this world until they dwindled away, lost to the other land. We know that great wars were fought and lost and won, and those wars have shaped our society today.

"Consider this: Rohirrim scholars from the Aldburg Center, a school of thought dedicated to fact with poor acceptance of the mythical, found that one in seven people states that they have either a memory of an age past, knowledge they cannot explain, or have met a person they feel they have known before.

"Consider the story of Arwen, a descendant of Quendi families who still live today in Rivendell, who could describe the interior of Minas Tirith perfectly at a young age despite having never left her home, nor being old enough to read. She carries the same name as the last Queen of this very nation where we have gathered today.

"Consider the dragon bones that remain outside Erebor, to which the line of Durin has been lost even in this age of information. What of the Casari and their King, who was meant to be reincarnated seven times in legend? We know that the last of Durin's line was killed in the Battle of the Five Armies, and their names were lost to time. But consider the man Thror Durst who, sixty years ago, took to international forums and spoke of dragon fire and Orc blood as if he had lived it himself."

The man in front of Bilbo sat stiffly now, and Bilbo's gaze was drawn to the tension in his neck. For all that his cheekbones could cut silver-steel and his arse could tempt a saint, the man was scruffy in a regal way, with the beginnings of a beard, as if he had recently shaved and was trying desperately to grow it back, his thick hair decorated with small beads in the Casari style. He wore his hair shorter than Bilbo's, but then Bilbo had long accepted his meager height and inclination toward curly hair and wore his hair long enough that it wouldn't turn into a small, poufy cloud.

Blast it, he was getting a crush. He hadn't even met the man! Bilbo grumbled to himself and looked up at Mithrandir again, then started to see that the old man was staring right at him. A faint smile that spoke of mystery crossed the old man's face, quickly enough that Bilbo thought he had imagined it.

"To those in the audience, I ask you this: have you ever met someone that you knew at first sight, without ever knowing their name? But you know how they smile without ever seeing it, you can hear their laughter in your ears, you know their voice as surely as you know your own? The famous Galadriel calls this phenomenon _vanwe handë_ , colloquially known as _harwë._

"If we accept that these proclaimed memories of the past are true, as with that the sensation one feels when they recall knowledge found only in old books or can navigate a city they never have visited, then we must seek the reason for the synchronization of our Ages past and present.

"What happened at the Battle of Five Armies, that the world plunged into chaos? We will never know the names of the Casari who gathered that day, nor the Quendi or Atani who died battling the ancient creatures known as Orcs. The company of fourteen that traveled across the world to battle the dragon Smaug might never be remembered as anything but fools, but something happened that day, three Ages ago. We know that thirteen of this company were Casari, but the fourteenth has always remained a mystery, though most sources agree that person also died in that terrible battle."

The man in front of Bilbo had leaned forward with interest, and even Bilbo could not tear his eyes from Mithrandir. He knew very little about that battle, only that it had been the catalyst of the Age of Darkness that killed nearly every being across Arda. He wondered briefly about the company of fourteen who had caused the battle to happen. Mithrandir glanced at him again, and something in his gaze kept Bilbo very still.

"Based on letters and journal entries from that time, I have deduced that the fourteenth member of the Company was none other than a person of the Periani race. Furthermore, that young Perian carried with them an ancient power that, for a short time, fell into the hands of the worst sort, the Dark Lord that ruled the Fourth Age with a wicked hand. Through no fault of the Perian or the Company, to be sure, but that the battle was lost at all was their downfall, and the Lord of the Ring's greatest victory.

"But Sauron's age did not last, thanks to the Great War. Today, Orcs hide away in the mountains on the very edges of our lands, though we know that they surely existed in terrible numbers before. Yet nearly every Orc was wiped off the planet, to be replaced by our prosperous people of the Fifth Age, while we nurtured tentative peace and the homogenization of the four great races. 

"We know from the old religion that our earliest ancestors worshipped Eru, Ilúvatar and creator of our world. We know this as well as we know our own names. We know of the song that was crafted by the Ainur of old that brought the world into existence.

"But what did Ilúvatar change at the end of our fourth Age? In my book _The Song of the World_ , I have theorized that Eru himself rewound parts of our song of existence, to save Arda from the Lord of the Rings and bring peace again to our great lands..."

The lecture was fascinating to say the least. Mithrandir, in his shabby grey suit with scruff that outdid Bilbo's crush, spoke of his hypothesis at length, and Bilbo was torn between admiring the shoulders of the man in front of him and writing down extensive notes. He had encountered reincarnation beliefs before in his literature and philosophy books, but to see everything cohesively and seamlessly presented left him excited to read Mithrandir's book. To think that Eru himself had taken the song of the world and had played it again, but without changing the land? It did make sense when one considered the odd population growth that had occurred after the Fourth Age.

When Mithrhandir left the stage, Bilbo stood briefly to fetch a hand-out from the front of the room, as Guthrie went to check his presentation. To his amusement, the stiff-backed man in front of him was still sitting in the same spot when Bilbo returned, though he did turn his head to look over the dissipating audience, his sharp gaze pausing briefly on Bilbo.

 _Oh dear,_ Bilbo thought wryly. _How does he get away with that face? Very nice. Not to mention that arse._

As if sensing Bilbo's less than innocent thoughts, the man turned around then and blinked to see Bilbo staring at him. Bilbo quickly wiped the hunger off his face and smiled politely. The man snorted at him and turned around again.

 _Rude!_ Bilbo thought, staring at him in affront.

He spent all of Guthrie's panel glaring at the back of the man's head and smirking every time the man shifted uncomfortably. Any time the man turned around, deep blue eyes flashing in annoyance, Bilbo sat angelic in his attention on his friend on stage. It filled him with a perverse glee to irritate the stranger, who was so damn attractive that Bilbo was unsure whether he hated him on principle or wanted to climb him like a tree.

When Guthrie was done, Bilbo carefully ignored the handsome stranger and stood to meet him. Together they left the hall, Guthrie gushing excitedly, though Bilbo was quickly saved from his friend's breathless chattering when Guthrie was waylaid by colleagues and rushed off to celebrate. Standing beside the large fountain in the atrium, Bilbo took out the schedule of events and surveyed it with interest. He was glad to stay through tomorrow, since Guthrie had kindly offered the pull-out in his room, but he had no idea what he should do next after his colleague had abandoned him.

"Too bad I won't see that arse again," he murmured, and he jumped when a deep voice caught in his ear.

"And what a fine arse it is."

Bilbo whirled around to find the man from the lecture hall standing behind him, looking imposing and tall with entirely unfair cheekbones. "Excuse me?" he squeaked, making the man smirk. 

"Your arse. That is what you were talking about, right? I can see the appeal."

The back of Bilbo's neck began to heat up, and he knew that his face was flushing a most unbecoming color. How rude! How forward! He stuttered his way to something of a response. "I-- the nerve of you --"

"Like you weren't staring at me all through two panels. Go on, deny it."

Bilbo, who was terrible at challenges, lifted his chin defiantly, meeting the stranger's deep blue gaze. "If you must know, I was indeed staring, Mr. Tall, Dark and Handsome. Though your personality leaves something to be desired, no matter how nice those trousers fit," he added, grinning when the man's eyes narrowed. His heart beat faster as he flushed, but he was pleased by the attention. Were they fighting, or were they flirting?

"Says the man in a sweater vest in June," the stranger retorted. Then he gave Bilbo a very obvious once-over, making Bilbo turn pink, and smiled in a strangely charming way. "Thorin, at your service. May I have a name to go with the arse in question?"

"Bilbo," he replied quickly, flustered and pleased. "Going to another panel? Perhaps I should sit in front of you this time, since you seem to like it so much." Flirting, definitely, which he had not done like this in ages.

"Just admiring the nice display, sweater vest aside," Thorin replied. He was staring at Bilbo very closely, and Bilbo's ears were very warm under the attention. No one had paid attention to him so intensely in _ages_. After a moment, Thorin glanced at the schedule in Bilbo's small hands, thick eyebrows furrowing. "I hadn't any plans for the rest of the day. The one lecture I cared for is over." 

"Oh?" He tried to be noncommittal. "Was that for Guthrie Hilden's, or for Mr. Mithrandir?" 

Thorin immediately scowled at the mention of the odd old man, which incidentally answered the question. "He didn't say anything I didn't already know. Ruddy old geezer," he muttered, lips twitching when Bilbo covered a snort.

"Are you presenting sometime, then? You don't seem the academic type, I have to say," Bilbo said, eyeing Thorin's sleek suit, which was nothing like the rumpled sweater vest and cheap khaki pants of your standard professor. The man wasn't even wearing _loafers_. Bilbo was almost embarrassed by him.

Thorin was staring at him again. "I'm not."

"Well! If you're not here presenting, and you're not really here for the symposium itself, you must do something dreadfully boring. What might that be, tall, dark and handsome?" Bilbo smiled charmingly, tucking the schedule into his pocket. Someone bumped into him from behind, and he stepped toward Thorin, close enough to feel the heat of his arm.

Thorin's ears were turning red, Bilbo was interested to note, but he sounded confident enough when he replied. "I'm an engineer, I'll have you know -- not that it matters when you're focused on my being tall, dark and handsome." 

Bilbo smiled, his eyes closing halfway as he tilted his head, in a manner Guthrie had once called ridiculous, but it had still gotten Bilbo laid when he had last used it. "As if the first thing you said to me wasn't about my nicely shaped buttocks?"

Thorin quickly cleared his throat, his ears turning redder, which made Bilbo's lips curl slightly in a smirk. He watched Thorin fumble for a response, pleased at the faint blush on those lovely cheekbones. He felt exhilarated, thrilled and excited. Mithrandir's lecture caught in his thoughts again, and he was relieved for a moment; he had known, from reading bits of research, that the odd connections he had felt to various people in the past were normal. Now, Thorin was _familiar_ to him, just as Mithrandir had said. He had never felt this so strongly before. He did not want to let Thorin get away.

For once in his life, Bilbo chose to be bold. His Took relatives would have been proud.

"If you've nothing else to do, would you like to join me for lunch, my dear tall, dark and handsome engineer? We can take our flirting to the bistro across the street." He beamed, cheeks dimpling, as Thorin straightened with surprise and, dare he say it, interest.

Thorin's gaze slid past him briefly, but his smile captured Bilbo's attention and he dared not look away. The man was _stunning_. 

"What the hell," Thorin muttered, and then he was in Bilbo's personal space, leaning down to speak lowly into his ear. "Better walk in front of me, so that I may continue to admire your assets, then. Lead the way, burglar."

Bilbo's entire body flushed, and he pulled at his collar as he startled away from Thorin, pinking brilliantly. "Burglar," he sputtered, "what have I burgled from you?" He started toward the front entrance, craning his head up to frown at Thorin. "You really are a rude man, aren't you?"

"Nothing yet," Thorin replied as he followed. "Though I wouldn't put it past you."

He smiled all the way to the bistro as Bilbo complained about him and every detail about his person that he could find offense at.

Unseen, an old man watched them walk away together, his smile mysterious yet fond at the same time. "It's amazing how much changes as time passes... and how little," he said to himself, yet when someone turned to look at him, there was nobody there.

~

The next several hours were some of the most entertaining Bilbo had ever experienced.

He and Thorin commandeered a table in the bistro and spent nearly three hours defending it from possible patrons, and they were saved from earning the ire of the staff only by Bilbo ordering a new dish at least every half hour. The food was delicious, but what kept them from returning to the symposium was conversation.

Thorin made Bilbo laugh. Bilbo made Thorin rant. They made each other blush, and they never seemed to run out of topics to share, whether it be personal interests (Bilbo enjoyed gardening, while Thorin had dabbled in metalwork), academic fields ("Engineering must be dreadfully _boring_." "As if philosophy isn't?"), or family ("All my family lines follow tradition, down to the number of children and their full names. We've always done it, since everyone started doing it at the beginning. No reason to stop now, is there?" "My family follows similar patterns. I admit we're a bit superstitious about _not_ following the tradition...").

During their three hour hostage situation over the table, Bilbo managed to order four appetizers, a salad, a sandwich, a bowl of soup, and even a dessert, much to Thorin's amazement. 

"Where are you putting all that?" Thorin's eyes were wide as he watched Bilbo neatly consume a batch of spinach puffs.

"Oh," Bilbo said, dabbing at his mouth with a napkin and licking his lips. Thorin followed the movement of the napkin almost jealously. "It's just, my family is all Perian lines, and we've all got quite the appetite. High metabolism, you know, for running about. It takes us more energy to keep up with tall folk! Can't help it."

"Never would have guessed," Thorin said dryly. Bilbo sniffed and looked at Thorin's beaded hair.

"Like anyone can't tell your family line," he replied, not noticing how quickly Thorin tensed. "From the Iron Hills, right?"

"Something like that," Thorin replied, watching Bilbo cautiously. He said nothing else as Bilbo busied himself with the arrangement of his salad, and after a few moments of joyfully exclaiming over the number of olives hidden amongst the croutons, Bilbo looked up to see Thorin staring at him.

"What is it?

"Nothing," Thorin said after a moment, glancing up when their entrees arrived. 

Thorin's lunch, to Bilbo's everlasting amusement, was nearly three times the size of the petite wrap that Bilbo had ordered. He chose to needle Thorin about this for about five minutes, enjoying the way Thorin's eyes crinkled as he tried not to smile. The conversation fell away after that, but it was a comfortable silence, as if Bilbo was eating with close friends or family.

Bilbo tried not to feel too disappointed about the man living so far away. There went the possibility of a proper date. He tucked into his own food, not minding the silence, watching Thorin without trying to be obvious.

"Something on my face?" 

Evidently he had failed. "Er, no," Bilbo blushed, quickly dipping his spoon into his soup and eating distractedly. He dipped it too far, though, and he absentmindedly cleaned the neck of the spoon with his tongue. When he glanced up, a shiver ran through him, all the way down to his toes; Thorin was staring at his mouth, dark and intense and heated, focused in such a manner that it stole Bilbo's breath away.

Bilbo dropped his spoon.

The rest of lunch passed similarly. At one point, Thorin stole one of Bilbo's spinach puffs and gloated over this fact for some time, and Bilbo threw his packet of crackers at him. This would have started an epic battle over the table, but a server materialized out of thin air and asked them, in quite a dangerous tone, if they would like their drinks refilled.

"This is your fault," Bilbo sulked as the server left after her terrifying smile had melted away with their meek answers. "I'm never this troublesome alone!"

"My doubts about your ability to maintain a polite manner could fill the caves in the Misty Mountains," Thorin said magnanimously, and Bilbo gaped at him.

"You --"

Thorin grinned. If he was trying not to look pleased with himself, Bilbo observed irritably, he was failing spectacularly. "Hm? Are you saying you _don't_ get fussy, overly critical, cynical to the point of someone else's tears, and judgmental when someone ruins some part of your day?"

Bilbo almost dropped his spoon again. Thorin described him _perfectly_ , and guiltily he tried not to think about the number of times he had shouted at his students and fellow professors for disturbing his office hours, or the number of times he had kicked out his silver-pilfering relatives, or the number of times he had written passive-aggressive notes for his neighbors after some slight against his poor yard.

Instead of losing his temper, as he might have if anybody else had pointed out his flaws so clearly, Bilbo took a deep breath and eyed Thorin thoughtfully, considering his own initial reaction to the man. Familiar, as if he knew Thorin -- and in a way he certainly did. He could imagine the exact reaction Thorin would have if someone managed to spill something on him, or if somebody were to talk about either of them from another table, or even more strangely, if a fight were to erupt.

Mithrandir had spoken of this familiarity, this concept of _vanwe handë_ , but Bilbo had not truly understood its deep-reaching truth until now. He _knew_ Thorin, and somehow, Thorin _knew_ him in return.

"I suppose so," he replied mildly, which put Thorin on guard quickly enough to return Bilbo's cheer for some time.

When dessert arrived, Thorin bypassed the menu and ordered a simple coffee, while Bilbo took a chance on the brownie. It came with a great scoop of ice cream, and the sight of the giant sweet with chocolate drizzled over the concoction made Thorin grimace. Bilbo was horrified when he found out why.

"What I don't understand," Bilbo said incredulously, "is how you can't like chocolate!"

"It's just too rich," Thorin muttered, but Bilbo leaned over the table and held out his spoon, which had a generous helping of brownie and ice cream, frowning.

"This is very mild, you know, and the ice cream balances it perfectly. Try some!"

Thorin stared at him, then at the spoon in his hand. Slowly, he leaned forward and opened his mouth, and the sight of his teeth flashing before he closed his lips over the bite was enough to make Bilbo freeze and stare. Thorin pulled back, his lips tightening as they slid over the spoon, and Bilbo might have whimpered.

"Hm," was all the infuriating man said, and Bilbo thought he could see the outline of Thorin's tongue pushing against his cheek, as he worked his way through the treat. Bilbo was still holding the spoon when Thorin smirked at him. "I suppose that's acceptable."

Bilbo didn't dare offer another bite, but when he dipped the spoon mechanically into his brownie and lifted it, he hesitated, remembering that Thorin's mouth had touched it. He lifted his gaze; Thorin was staring at him, that dark heat rising in his gaze again. Without breaking the contact, Bilbo slowly ate his bite of brownie, pointedly licking every bit of chocolate from the spoon in a rather lewd display.

Thankfully, he was facing away from the rest of the restaurant, else he might have been thrown out on his ear, spoon and all.

Thorin made an abrupt movement, then froze and slowly leaned back again, his hands resting loosely on the table as he stared Bilbo down. Bilbo felt vulnerable and exhilarated; he could almost feel Thorin's desperation to leap over the table and take the spoon away from him, perhaps replacing it with his tongue.

That might have been wishful thinking.

Thorin did not jump him, to Bilbo's disappointment. He finished his dessert peacefully, well aware of Thorin's attention on his mouth every time he lifted his spoon, and when he turned to the server to retrieve the check, he realized how very turned on he was in a public restaurant. Bilbo's face flushed bright red, and he could barely look at either Thorin or the bemused server as he fished out his wallet to pay. As they waited for their receipts, Bilbo determinedly avoided looking at the empty dish and tried to will his erection away.

"Are you going back to the convention?" Thorin asked, breaking the tense silence that had settled over the table, and Bilbo grabbed onto the diversion tactic with relief.

"Oh, yes, I suppose so. I haven't the foggiest where Guthrie went, but I imagine he'll be busy with his sociology friends for some time yet. I think I saw a few interesting panels... the one with the Rohirrim war poetry reading might be nice."

Thorin clearly did not think this would be, in any way, 'nice,' but his next words surprised Bilbo. "Might I join you? I admit, I am enjoying our time together." Bilbo watched with interest as Thorin's large ears began to turn red again.

He beamed. "I'd be very happy if you joined me, Thorin."

When their receipts arrived, Thorin was quick to leave his tip and stand, striding away from the table with thunder in his brow, but Bilbo was not fooled. His ears were still red, after all.

Bilbo took his time to join him at the door, waving at the relieved bistro workers as they stepped out into the warm afternoon. He leaned close to Thorin, turning his head to look up at the dozens of nations' flags that decorated the convention center.

"Shall I walk in front of you again? After all, you haven't had much time to admire, as you wished for earlier."

He was very pleased when Thorin's ears turned even redder.

~

The panel about Rohirrim battle poetry was a terrible mistake.

"Oft we wither without a sword in our hand, and ride with our brethren into battle we must," the poet up front intoned, in a musical and resonant voice, but Bilbo barely heard her, as Thorin was leaning against his shoulder and murmuring awful, ridiculous things.

"Ride our brethren we must, for they get cranky if you leave their swords hanging," Thorin whispered to Bilbo, making him squirm.

"Shhh! I'm trying to listen," he giggled.

"Rutting over saddle and bale alike --"

"Thorin!"

"While I with my sword standing stiff and proud, bend my fair kin's bony arse over --"

"You'll get us thrown out," Bilbo hissed, as he fought against laughter. 

Thorin did not seem to care. "Ride my cock, I cry!"

His whisper was a bit louder that time, and in a panic Bilbo grabbed blindly in the shadows for Thorin's hand, but instead he found smooth cloth. The movement hushed Thorin, thankfully, so Bilbo held onto the warm limb, only belatedly realizing that it was Thorin's leg.

After a moment, thick fingers stroked softly at the nape of his neck. He shivered, uncomfortably warm, and he felt a little silly for giggling like a school boy in a lecture, but at the same time, the situation felt surprisingly _good_. Thorin's leg was firm and solid beneath his hand, his hand a gentle presence on his neck. He kept thinking of Thorin saying 'cock,' imagining a different setting for the word, and he didn't realize that his hand had crept higher until suddenly, a hot palm landed on his wrist.

He squeaked and cleared his throat, not daring to look over. Thorin's fingers were still combing through his curls, now running dangerously close to Bilbo's ear, and he squirmed for a different reason now, yet he was unwilling to stop this.

Another kind of tension hung between them now, heated and electric and so very different, strange with the romance of it. This was a very public place; it was not dark enough that the unsuspecting person down the row could not look over and see them feeling each other up.

But Bilbo wanted more. He began kneading Thorin's leg, ever so carefully, admiring the twitching muscles beneath his fingers. Thorin was _strong,_ his body sturdy as a typical Casari man, and Bilbo wished he had thought to admire it more in the light. Touching Thorin was enough for now.

Thorin had not lifted his hand, but he did not stop Bilbo either. His soft breathing caught Bilbo's attention more surely than the epic poetry he would have otherwise adored; he barely heard it now, as it were.

When Thorin rubbed his thumb over the point on Bilbo's ear, he gasped, very small, making Thorin tense. His head fell back and his entire body shuddered; oh, if they were alone! He would climb up Thorin's lap and show him _exactly_ how much he enjoyed that --

The lights came on then, and Thorin took his hand away, squeezing Bilbo's hand once before letting go and deftly sliding out of his chair. "Just going to the restroom," he murmured at Bilbo's bewildered look. Then he walked away stiffly.

Bilbo stared after him, trying to calm his stuttering heart. What was he doing? Oh, but he was as if a Took in love! He covered his face and sighed deeply, sitting that way for several moments until he heard a throat clear.

He looked up and found a familiar old man standing over him. "Excuse me," Mithrandir said politely, with a charming smile. "May I borrow this chair? I'm afraid my knees aren't what they used to be."

Bilbo sat up straight and smiled back. "Of course, that's no problem at all." He was a bit dismayed when Mithrandir took the spot next to Thorin's, which might cause some awkwardness later, but he refused to let it bother him. "Aren't you, ah, Mithrandir?" he inquired, beaming when Mithrandir nodded. "I sat in on your lecture earlier. It was brilliant! Your book is coming out in September, correct?"

"The twenty-second," Mithrandir nodded, and Bilbo felt a little jolt of surprise.

"Perfect! That's my birthday, actually. What an excellent gift," he said, and Mithrandir smiled at him, looking charmed as old men were wont to do.

"Very good. Are you part of the school of philosophy, by chance, Mister...?"

"Baggins. Dr. Bilbo Baggins of the Shire. My doctorate was in philosophy, though I focused more on Second and Third Age feminism. I do enjoy Lord Elrond's work, though, not to mention the Lady Galadriel herself."

"Ah, yes. I've visited the Shire before, but I hadn't seen you in their philosophy department." Mithrandir looked somewhat confused, so Bilbo hastened to correct him.

"That's because I teach Literature now. So you've visited our fair campus before? Perhaps we should meet up for lunch next time you do," he said, hopeful to gain another colleague.

Mithrandir smiled as his pale gaze twinkled, wrinkled hands grasping his white cane. "I would be delighted." They exchanged business details, and Bilbo was tucking the small card into his wallet when he sensed a heavy gaze on him and looked up to see Thorin glowering from across the room.

"Oh, my friend's back," Bilbo said with a smile, not minding Thorin's brooding look. He lifted his hand in a wave, amused as Thorin alternated between frowning at him and glaring at Mithrandir. "We met because of your lecture, incidentally enough."

"What a coincidence," Mithrandir murmured. "I invited Thorin to the conference myself, actually. He and I have a long history, you see."

"Oh," Bilbo said, blinking as he looked between Thorin and Mithrandir. Now the dark-haired man was making his way through the crowds of people lingering at the entrance to the room, looking madder than Bilbo had ever seen him. "I had burgled him for a time. Old friends, you said?"

"Indeed," Mithrandir said, standing quite gracefully for someone who had been complaining about his knees. "I unfortunately have somewhere to be, so you must give Thorin my regards. I had wanted to catch him before I left for the day, but unfortunately, I really must be going now. Please let him know I will call him." He smiled at Bilbo, who eyed him suspiciously but nodded easily enough.

"I'll do so, Mr. Mithrandir. Please give me a call sometime. I'd love to discuss your theory more with you, perhaps over tea and sandwiches? I grow lovely tomatoes, you know."

The look Mithrandir gave him was fond and familiar, and suddenly, Bilbo thought that he might _know_ this man. "Hobbits," Mithrandir said with a happy smile. "You never change throughout the ages, no matter what happens, no matter how far you roam. I'll look you up when I visit your campus again, Bilbo." He lifted his cane in a wave, then somehow vanished in the time that Thorin took to stride across the room, looking every which way for the strange old man.

"Where did he go?" Thorin demanded, but Bilbo was caught on what Mithrandir had said, his eyes wide with shock.

"How did he know that word?" he murmured, and Thorin looked at him sharply.

"Bilbo, what did he say to you?" Swiftly he knelt down in front of Bilbo, worried and angry in the same glance, reaching up to touch Bilbo's arms. "Did he do anything to you?"

"What?" Bilbo focused on Thorin's anxious expression, frowning in confusion. "Of course not, he was only sitting here for a moment. He said he was your friend, though I might be mistaken about that, considering your present reaction. He just -- well, he knew a word that he should not have known. Nobody knows that word. It's not for outsiders, which he definitely is."

Thorin stared at him, bewildered, and his voice came out rougher as he worked through Bilbo's statement. "Just a word? And it didn't -- he didn't say anything stranger than that?"

Bilbo snorted, reaching up to take Thorin's hands and squeezing them. "Well, he was certainly strange. Will you get up? You look ridiculous," he whispered at the end with a blush, realizing that people were watching them. Thorin stayed where he was for a moment, clearly not believing Bilbo, but eventually he did stand, pulling Bilbo up with him. As they left the room, he remained close to Bilbo, enough that he could feel the heat of his arm at his back, his thick fingers lingering at Bilbo's waist.

They were silent until they reached a small area of couches and chairs, and Bilbo sank onto a plush sofa with a sigh. Thorin sat down beside him, tense and grim, and Bilbo watched him with a small frown. The air between them was tense now, and Bilbo worried that Mithrandir's appearance had ruined things. Whatever 'things' there might be. Oh, he hoped there would still be 'things,' because he really liked Thorin. Hopefully he would be able to snag his number before he retired for the evening.

"Thorin," he said quietly, watching as Thorin's broad shoulders drew in further. "I saw a notice about a Jeopardy tournament in about half an hour. Would you like to go watch? I hear today's matches are based on Casari scholarship about Khazad-dûm itself."

Thorin turned his head, studying Bilbo as if he were a particularly stubborn puzzle, which Bilbo supposed was accurate enough. "You're not going to ask questions about what just happened."

"Oh," Bilbo explained cheerfully, "I have _many_ questions for you, which you will answer in due time, but I think it'd be fun to watch other people shout for once. Plus I have the bonus of making you sweat nervously however long we stay to watch. It will be highly entertaining for me."

"Never let anyone tell you that you are not a cruel person," Thorin replied dryly, and his shoulders relaxed enough that Bilbo felt comfortable reaching out to touch his arm, leaning in close.

"Wouldn't you like to see how cruel I can be?" he murmured, grinning when Thorin muttered a curse under his breath, and then his hand was seized by a hot, smooth palm.

"Flirting with me again, are you, burglar? Perhaps I should show you _my_ cruelty. You were quite the tease earlier... should I reward you, or choose a fitting punishment?"

"There you go, calling me a burglar again," Bilbo whispered, a short gasp escaping him when Thorin turned his head and brushed his nose under Bilbo's ear. "Thorin, we're in public!" He pulled away, and Thorin huffed a small laugh, warm breath fanning over Bilbo's collar and making him shiver. He stood abruptly, but somehow Thorin managed to hold onto his hand.

"Didn't seem to stop you earlier. The tournament sounds interesting enough... and perhaps you would like to join me for dinner after? If you are not busy with your friend." Thorin's voice was smooth and deep, the rough edge from earlier gone for the moment, but Bilbo did not let Thorin's calm expression fool him. There was visceral heat burning in Thorin's gaze; the way his blue eyes raked over Bilbo's body left him _wanting_. He nearly ignored the people talking around them in favor of sitting down on Thorin's lap.

But Bilbo did not jump Thorin in the middle of the convention hall. Instead, he lifted Thorin's hand and pressed a kiss to the back of it, above the thick, square-cut ring on his finger. "I would be delighted to join you for dinner," he murmured, sucking a tiny hickey onto Thorin's skin, and he was completely satisfied with Thorin's answering wide-eyed stare and subsequent blush.

~

The tournament was good fun for both of them. The audience took to shouting encouragement (and sometimes answers) for the contestants, who were nearly all Casari scholars, and Thorin took to explaining some of the questions to Bilbo between rounds, while he soaked up the new knowledge with great interest.

Long ago, the Casari clans had been extremely protective of their knowledge, but after the Great War and the rebuilding of the world began, they had adapted and begun to trade information. In return, the Casari clans worked together to create the technology that ran Bilbo's cell phone and the rest of the lights, computers, and thousands of other amazing gadgets that made life so much easier. Thorin had sounded rather smug when Bilbo had expressed fascination with the taller man's cell phone, the latest in tech today.

"So this is what you do," Bilbo said as he played around with one of the apps on Thorin's phone. "Create tech like this? And more? Are computers going to have this as well soon?

"Not so boring a field now, is it?" Thorin was still smirking, and Bilbo thought of kissing the expression away, but he was not quite ready for that yet.

"Maybe," he hedged, and he would have happily argued with Thorin for another half hour, had Guthrie not sat down beside them with a cheerful grin.

"Hullo, Bilbo! Sorry we lost each other earlier, couldn't let the Brandybuck boys go off alone. Troublemaking sods, them," he whispered with a huff, setting his weight down firmly and looking over at Bilbo, then past him at Thorin.

"Hello! Guthrie Hilden, at your service. One of Bilbo's friends, are you?" He glanced between them, his grin widening as Bilbo began to flush. Guthrie, unfortunately, knew his type, and Thorin happened to be an exact match.

"This is Thorin, and this is my friend Guthrie. We studied for our Mastery together, back in the old days," Bilbo said quickly, trying to do damage control.

"Good to meet you, Thorin!" He held out a hand, and Thorin dutifully shook it over Bilbo's lap, dropping it to Bilbo's leg when Guthrie let go. Bilbo absolutely did not let out a squeak, and Guthrie didn't seem to notice, as dark as it was.

"You as well," Thorin said quietly in reply, glancing at Bilbo, who avoided meeting his gaze.

"Who's winning?" Guthrie whispered in interest, and Bilbo gladly explained the warring scholarly factions at the front of the room, all the while aware of how hot Thorin's palm felt through the thin cloth of his slacks.

When Thorin seemed preoccupied with the women and men shouting at each other up front, Guthrie leaned over to Bilbo and whispered far too loudly, "Wasn't he the guy you were makin' eyes at this mor--"

Bilbo hurriedly clapped his hand over Guthrie's mouth, but Thorin was still staring ahead. He closed his eyes in dismay when Thorin squeezed his leg, though, and sighed deeply as he let go of Guthrie.

"Not another word," he hissed out the side of his mouth, despairing when Guthrie smirked at him and took to watching Thorin gleefully.

When the winner of the tournament was announced to muttering and a few shouted threats of mutiny, Guthrie joined Bilbo and Thorin as they left the room, producing a stack of papers from nowhere and pushing them into Bilbo's arms. "Found you some research I thought you'd like! I can't keep it, I'm going out with the lads for a pint or three. Would you two like to join us?" He smiled beatifically at Thorin, who exchanged a glance with Bilbo.

"Actually, Guthrie, I've got plans already," Bilbo said, as straight-faced as he could, but Guthrie still smirked at him.

"Well, I'll see you back at the room, then. Text me if you need a ride somewhere! I've got connections with one of those new Ered Luin Innovations bikes," Guthrie replied, smug as he waved at Bilbo and disappeared into the crowds. Bilbo covered his face with a groan, while Thorin watched Guthrie walk away with a raised eyebrow.

"Interesting friend of yours," he said, and Bilbo shot him a look.

"Don't you start. If you don't mind, I'd like to run by my room and drop this off, perhaps take a breather," he replied, and Thorin's eyes darkened with familiar heat. Bilbo licked his lips without thinking, suddenly wondering if Thorin thought he was inviting him back to the room for more. _Was_ he inviting Thorin for more?

"Lead the way," Thorin replied, and for a moment Bilbo thought Thorin might kiss him. For an entire hour, Thorin's hand had stayed on Bilbo's leg, reminding him of the sexually charged flirtation between them. It was only through sheer force of will that he had remained calm between his good friend and -- whatever Thorin was to him. Partner of the day? Potential sexual interest? Conquest? Now Bilbo just felt confused.

Thorin followed him silently through the halls, and as they reached the room he was sharing with Guthrie, Bilbo wondered if this was possibly a bad idea. He hardly knew Thorin. Was he actually a dangerous person? He glanced up through curls at Thorin, once again focusing on that sensation of _harwë_. He trusted his instincts, which told him that Thorin might be rough and mysterious, but that he was also a good person. He had been duped before; he knew what liars acted like.

He slid his card through the side of the lock and popped the door open, going over to the couch where he had left his pack and leaning over to tuck the papers away. When Bilbo turned around, Thorin was standing at the window, staring over the frankly entrancing view of Minas Tirith.

"You're sleeping here with your friend?" Thorin asked without turning around, and Bilbo took his meaning to be the large, single bed.

"The couch has a pull-out," he replied, going to join Thorin at the window. Looks like the sun had just set, which was a shame, but the expansive sky was that perfect range of darkening blue to green, steadily filling with twinkling stars. The streets were full of people below, though they were high enough in the city not to be bothered with most of the noise.

"This day has been full of surprises," Thorin said, as if to himself, and he only shook his head when Bilbo made a questioning noise.

The view captured his attention for a time, but Bilbo's eyes were soon drawn back to Thorin. He flushed when he realized that Thorin was watching him as well, the blue of his eyes brighter than the sky. Bilbo swallowed nervously as a hot palm pressed to his cheek, tilting his face upward, but he dared not let Thorin complete that movement; instead, he held onto his Took bravery and leaned up himself, their noses nudging as Bilbo pressed their lips together.

"Bilbo," Thorin whispered, which encouraged him to cup Thorin's face in his hands and kiss him ardently, the day's frustrating flirtation pushing him to take what he wanted. Thorin's hands dropped to his waist, tugging him closer as his hands quested up Bilbo's back, pushing up his sweater vest and making Bilbo groan. He took his hands off Thorin's face and slid them beneath the silk of his suit, enjoying how very muscular he was.

"Been wanting to do this all day," Bilbo murmured between kisses, and he jolted when one of Thorin's hands slid lower and grasped his backside, squeezing consideringly.

"I can't tell you how long I've wanted to do something like this," Thorin whispered, that rough edge returning to his voice, and Bilbo shivered. Something darker lay hidden within Thorin's voice, and Bilbo could barely infer what he meant; whatever Thorin was feeling, he did not tell Bilbo in so many words, only in the way he gripped Bilbo on the edge of too tight, his kisses turning just a bit harsher.

Bilbo ended up pressed to the window, his legs entwined with Thorin's with their hips just inches apart. He could tilt his head back and stare up at the sky through the glass, as Thorin mouthed along his neck, sucking little marks eagerly. When Thorin found Bilbo's favorite spot, just behind his ear, he wasted no time, kissing and sucking and lathering Bilbo's neck. Bilbo just about writhed against him, wanting the friction but not daring to do anything more, and he clenched his hands over Thorin's waist, sinking down on the ledge enough to escape Thorin's passionate kisses for a moment.

Thorin gave him such a wounded look that Bilbo laughed, breathless and more turned on than he had felt in ages. "Not in here," he whispered. "Guthrie's sleeping in here! I can't do anything where he might," and then he blushed, turning his face away nervously.

"Mm, can't say I wouldn't mind staking a claim," Thorin said, gripping Bilbo's chin and tilting his face up, pressing an open-mouthed kiss to his lips.

"Thorin!"

"Kidding," Thorin replied with a short laugh, and he moved away a moment later, giving Bilbo some air and awkwardly adjusting himself.

Bilbo stayed where he was for a moment, staring at the bulge in Thorin's trousers and nearly ignoring his own decision, but he persevered and stumbled over to his bags, rummaging around a bit.

When his hand reached the bottom of the bag and brushed something terribly familiar, Bilbo's entire face turned bright red and he hurriedly snatched his hand away. Thorin had been watching him, though, and worriedly crouched down beside him, reaching for Bilbo's hand.

"Bilbo? Was it a spider?"

"No!" Bilbo's voice was strangled, and Thorin scowled and reached for the pack -- but Bilbo hurriedly grabbed it and hugged it close, staring at him with wide eyes.

"It's nothing," Bilbo said calmly, quite believably he thought, but Thorin's responding expression spoke volumes about his doubt. "No, really," he tried, but Thorin was tugging on the bag.

"If it's a spider, you need to kill it early, there are all sorts this time of year," Thorin was saying, and Bilbo was frantically trying to yank the bag back. Thorin grabbed onto the ties, and the resulting tug sent the entire contents of Bilbo's bag spilling onto the floor.

Including his shiny purple sex toy, conveniently tucked into a clear plastic case.

Thorin froze, and Bilbo sunk down on the couch, hiding beneath his bag as Thorin loomed over him. "Kill me now," Bilbo moaned, curling up with his knees pressing against Thorin's chest. "I swear I didn't mean to leave it in there, I would never have brought it had I remembered, because Guthrie would _never_ let me hear the end of it, and we're not like that! Only if I'm alone, and only if, er," he trailed off, peeking through his fingers when he felt Thorin's hands on his knees. He dared to look up, and the intense look on Thorin's face left him breathless.

"Come to my room," Thorin growled, pushing Bilbo's knees apart and leaning down to kiss him with such passion that it left Bilbo shaking. "We won't disturb anyone there. I'll be all yours."

"Hold on," Bilbo whimpered, pushing at Thorin's shoulders, and Thorin obeyed his request, leaning back, but his eyes never left Bilbo's face. Bilbo took a deep breath and sat up completely, reaching down to cover Thorin's hands on the inside of his thighs. "Just so we're clear, I really _did not_ mean to bring that. And," he added quickly when Thorin opened his mouth, "I _really do_ want to have sex with you. Lots of it, if we can. And maybe," he trailed off, blushing, glancing at the innocuous toy, "we could use that, too. If you wanted."

"Oh, I want," Thorin groaned, leaning over to kiss Bilbo again, and Bilbo had to clench his fingers over Thorin's hands to keep him from inching closer to his very hard cock.

"Your room," Bilbo gasped, as Thorin slid his mouth down to his neck, sucking at the small bruise he had left earlier. "What floor are you on? Can we take the stairs?

"Two floors up. Nice big bed," Thorin alternated his words with small kisses, kneading Bilbo's legs now. "Been thinking about your mouth and what you can do with it, after that damned spoon --"

Bilbo laughed, bright and relieved, and he took advantage of Thorin's pause to escape his grip, moving to gather up his belongings and quickly repack them. He left most of them with his other bag, but he tucked the toy and some clothes into his pack and redid the ties, looking up and turning red when he found he was face-to-face with Thorin's crotch.

"Mm. Having a bit of trouble there?" Bilbo asked impishly, staring right at Thorin's cock, and Thorin groaned and tugged him to his feet.

"You are a menace. Come on," he muttered, and Bilbo followed him, anticipating the feel of Thorin's hands on his bare skin. They hurried up the stairwell, somehow managing to avoid any other patrons of the hotel, and Thorin fished a small keycard out of his pocket when they reached the room.

Bilbo pressed up against his back and slid his hands down Thorin's chest, leaning up to kiss at his reddening ear. "Hurry," he whispered, sliding one hand down to cup Thorin's bulging cock, shivering to feel the girth of it. Thorin was descended from the Casari in more ways than one, it seemed. "Thorin, I need --"

The door opened then, and in an instant it had slammed shut with Bilbo inside, pressed against the wood with Thorin's leg between his own, as Thorin took his mouth in a hard kiss. "Absolute menace," Thorin growled, and Bilbo whined as he rutted against the taller man.

"Haven't even taken me to _dinner_ ," he teased, and Thorin bit on his lip in response, making him snicker. He reached down to Thorin's backside and squeezed, all but riding his thigh as he arched.

"We can order in," grumbled Thorin. "I had a romantic dinner all planned for you, with wine and candlelight and my foot rubbing over your cock under the table --"

"Liar!" gasped Bilbo, pushing Thorin's jacket off his shoulders, Thorin's fingers working at the buttons of his vest. "There were no candles in the picture at all, were there?" The jacket slid to the floor, forgotten, and Bilbo set to undoing the buttons of Thorin's shirt.

"But you don't doubt the foot job," Thorin smirked, pressing a hot kiss to Bilbo's neck, intent on making another mark even as he tugged Bilbo's shirt out of his slacks. 

"Mm, not that you'd do it properly. All the bigger folk of the world couldn't use their feet properly if they tried," Bilbo retorted, and he yelped when Thorin suddenly picked him up and pressed him to the wall beside them, tugging Bilbo's legs to wrap around his waist.

"Don't squirm," he ordered, and Bilbo disobeyed him completely, moaning as their hips pressed together, while Thorin all but ripped Bilbo's multiple layers off. Bilbo tilted his head, watching as the bulge in Thorin's pants pressed forward, entranced by the sight. "Damn it, Bilbo," Thorin growled, turning Bilbo's face toward him and leaning in to kiss him again.

"Get your shirt off, you big clot, I want to see you," Bilbo gasped. Thorin scowled, clearly indecisive, and Bilbo slowly rutted against him, undulating his hips wantonly until Thorin cursed and shifted his grip.

Bilbo held onto his shoulders as Thorin carried him across the room, dropping him onto the bed. Instead of continuing their passionate embrace, Thorin stood up straight, gripping Bilbo's knees lightly as he lay sprawled across the pristine covers.

"What are you looking at?" Bilbo whispered, his face heating up. Thorin's gaze softened, and he ran his thumbs down Bilbo's sides, untying his pants and gently tugging them off Bilbo's legs, doing the same for his short boxers. For a moment, all Thorin did was stare, so intensely that Bilbo could swear he felt the physical heat of his gaze upon his bare skin. 

The way Thorin tugged his own clothes off was much more hurried and frantic, and Bilbo sat up to watch him as he went to rummage through both their bags. He returned with Bilbo's dildo, free of its package, and a small tube of lube, and at Bilbo's interested look, Thorin promptly turned red.

"Ohhh," Bilbo said slowly, leering as Thorin avoided his gaze, "so I'm not the only person who fulfills their needs during long trips?"

"Shut up," Thorin muttered, shoving Bilbo's legs apart and standing between them, his cock jutting up proudly. Bilbo's imagination ran wild as he looked over Thorin's muscular body, enjoying the softness of his belly that spoke of a good life and the thickness of his cock, framed by dark, coarse hair. He sat up and slid his hands up Thorin's hips, leaning in to kiss Thorin's stomach, then his hipbone, reaching up to wrap his fingers around Thorin's length.

He was thick and heavy in Bilbo's hand, and he stroked once, slowly pushing the foreskin back and admiring the silken feel. Thorin stood above him, breathing shallowly as he watched, and Bilbo looked up with a coy expression. With his free hand, he reached for the dildo and tugged it from Thorin's hand, bringing it to his mouth and licking a long stripe up the length of it, never breaking his gaze with Thorin, and still stroking his cock slowly. Never had he been gladder for his habit of cleaning and storing his toys.

Thorin grabbed for the dildo, but Bilbo twisted his wrist and tugged, and instead Thorin's hand landed on Bilbo's head, grasping his curls and pulling his face up. "Tease," Thorin snarled, and Bilbo smirked at him and opened his mouth obscenely around the dildo, lathering it with the attention he wished to pay to Thorin's cock.

"Do something about it, then," Bilbo replied smugly, and he was rewarded when Thorin pushed him down on the bed and snatched the toy from his hand. Bilbo fell on his back, breathless as he watched Thorin open the lube and spread it over his fingers, anticipating the cool slick of his fingers, but it still shocked him when Thorin slid two digits right into him.

"Thorin," he yelped, his hips jerking upward, and Thorin pinned him down with one hand, working his fingers quickly and precisely. Bilbo keened, thrashing against the bed and grasping at the covers, pushing his lightly haired toes against Thorin's shoulders. He felt the burn of the stretch for a moment, but then Thorin leaned down to mouth at the curly hair at the base of his cock, and he was sufficiently distracted.

Thorin took his time in stretching Bilbo, for all that he had been quick to start. His thick fingers were gentle, and his mouth was hot around Bilbo's cock, sucking just the head first, then slowly drawing more of his length down his throat. Bilbo's feet remained sitting on Thorin's shoulders, and he gasped and moaned and panted, coming close to begging as Thorin held him down with one thick arm heavy across his hips.

Bilbo knew he was small; there was no helping it, not with his genes, yet for all that Thorin's ancestors had once been the same size of him, Thorin was decidedly _not_. He was tall, muscular, and altogether heavy, with thick muscles and limbs that easily dwarfed Bilbo. If Bilbo had once been a foot smaller, and Thorin the same, then the man would still have been at least a head taller than him, able to pick him up and cart him around as he wished.

Now that was a thought. Thorin holding him and fucking him while standing --

"Oh, I'm so close," Bilbo cried out, as Thorin hummed around him, but before he could get any closer to his orgasm, Thorin lifted his head and left Bilbo's cock alone, grinning at him. Bilbo halfheartedly swatted at him, and in response Thorin slid a third finger into him, pressing them deep and breathing out slowly as Bilbo threw his head back and wailed.

"Just fuck me already, please, I _need you_ , I can't wait anymore," Bilbo begged, grabbing at Thorin's hands, but Thorin evaded him and stood again, pushing Bilbo's legs apart again, wide enough to rest his feet on the edges of the bed. He stepped between them and leaned over, kissing Bilbo slowly, and something hot and thick rubbed against his entrance.

"Thorin," he whined, spreading his legs and rubbing his slickened skin against Thorin's cock, shuddering at the sensation.

"Mm," Thorin groaned, and for a brief moment, Bilbo felt the press of his cock at his hole, pushing slowly in, but then Thorin did something unforgivable -- he pulled away and slid the lubed dildo into Bilbo instead, grabbing at Bilbo's hands when he cried out and scrambled to grab onto him.

"No! I want _you_ ," Bilbo moaned, trying to tug his hands out of Thorin's grip, but Thorin shook his head, keeping them pinned to Bilbo's stomach.

"I want to watch you like this," he said roughly, voice low and edged with such darkness that it sent a thrill through Bilbo, making him writhe. "Oh, I will fuck you, but to see you spread open like this, begging me for it, desperate for my cock... you are something else, burglar." He leaned down and caught Bilbo's mouth in a kiss, pushing the dildo deeper as he slid his tongue into Bilbo's panting mouth.

Bilbo's world tipped, filling with the strangest sensation of falling, of having heard Thorin say _burglar_ before, but Bilbo had already heard the word a handful of times today. He wished he had asked earlier if Thorin truly felt it too, the _harwë_ that lingered at the back of his thoughts. Had he been a thief in his past life? Had he stolen something from Thorin? Had they been lovers, friends, enemies? How had he known this familiar stranger?

"Please," Bilbo moaned thickly when Thorin pulled away, opening his damp eyes and staring up into blue eyes, half-lidded and dark with passion. "Thorin, please." His voice was low and plaintive, begging, desperate, _needy_ , and finally, it was enough for Thorin to let him go and stand up again.

"Only for you, Bilbo," Thorin murmured, picking him up and moving to lay him against the pillows, tucking one under his hips and kneeling between his legs. He slid the dildo out and set it by the pillow, and Bilbo followed the sticky shine of his fingers, swallowing nervously as Thorin wrapped them around his thick, dark cock.

That was rather larger than his dildo. He held his breath when Thorin's cock nudged him open, lifting his gaze to watch Thorin's face. Thorin's blue eyes were fastened to their joining bodies, his hand holding Bilbo's hip steady as he sank slowly into Bilbo. Bilbo dared not close his eyes, though his eyelashes fluttered at the sensation of Thorin's cock spreading him open and filling him up.

At last, Thorin's thighs nudged against Bilbo's backside, and he moaned as Thorin began to move, leaning down over his elbows above Bilbo and tilting his head down to kiss softly at his neck. He kept most of his weight off Bilbo, slow and careful as he pressed him open, and his deep voice rumbled in his throat.

"I'm sorry I left you alone for so long," Thorin murmured into Bilbo's neck, tilting his head up to kiss Bilbo's cheeks, then his eyes, taking his tears away. Bilbo didn't understand him for a moment, so focused on the burning heat between his legs.

"You've been right here, though," he whispered, confused, and he felt Thorin's pause, long enough that he turned his head to look at him. "Thorin?"

"How does it feel, Bilbo?" Thorin said, meeting his gaze and smirking, but Bilbo thought he saw something fade in his expression. "The cock you begged for, does it feel good? Do I make you feel good?"

"You're so good," Bilbo choked out, holding tightly to Thorin's hips, his toes curling in the comforter. "I haven't -- it's been too long, and you feel _so good_ , Thorin, so much better than my little toy. Please, go harder." He let out a whine when Thorin shifted, wondering how the mood had changed from frantic to this slow, almost gentle pace. He shuddered as Thorin sat up and slid deeper into him in the same movement, shouting and reaching up to grab at him. One of his hands found Thorin's palm, and he held on tightly, pressing the other to Thorin's hip to steady himself.

" _Good,_ " Thorin growled, and then he ground his cock into Bilbo, in short, staccato movements that left Bilbo breathless and moaning with abandon. Bilbo watched him, reaching up to press his palm to Thorin's flushed cheek, running his fingers back to the beads braided into his hair, thinking that his braids should be longer, his beard fuller, his hair falling over his back -- but the image faded, and Bilbo blinked, suddenly desperate to know.

"Thorin," he managed, but Thorin did not hear his question, instead leaning down to capture his mouth and fuck into him, hard and fast now. He took Bilbo's hand and slid them down together, wrapping their fingers around Bilbo's cock and squeezing, and Bilbo gasped, sweat trickling down his forehead as his orgasm began to build again.

"Fuck me," he moaned into Thorin's mouth, turning his head and scraping his teeth down Thorin's neck, arching his back to press up against him.

"Bilbo," Thorin whispered, groaning and suddenly pulling away. Bilbo yelped in dismay, but then Thorin was seizing his hips and flipping him over to his hands and knees, lining himself up again and pressing in between his thighs, thrusting hard to fill him up. Bilbo screamed and fell forward onto his arms, his legs spread obscenely wide, curling his toes against Thorin's knees. His leaking sex rubbed against the pillow with each thrust, and the bed shook as Thorin rutted harder into him, leaning down to mouth at the back of his neck.

Bilbo could no longer speak, only formless noises that fell from his mouth in short gasps. He reached back to hold onto Thorin's hip, holding onto him as he lifted his hips backwards, riding Thorin's cock. Thorin's thrusts grew shorter, sharper, and then he pressed Bilbo down to the bed, coming with a hoarse shout and rolling his hips as burning heat washed over Bilbo's insides. 

Bilbo shuddered and held still for him, letting Thorin do as he wished, and he was rewarded when Thorin slipped out of him and turned him over, his heavy gaze bright as he leaned down and sucked Bilbo's cock into his mouth, lapping up his precome with fervor. At the same time, he took the toy and pushed it back into Bilbo, pushing it in deep. Bilbo yelped and squeezed his knees around Thorin's ears, pumping his hips as he came with a desperate cry, Thorin's throat swallowing around him.

Bilbo fell limp, trembling as he held onto Thorin, not daring to let go after such a powerful experience. Thorin nosed at his hips, kissing his sensitive skin. He was gentle as he removed the dildo, leaving it and the pillow they had used on the floor, but he did not let Bilbo go. Bilbo turned his head to look at the clock, wondering faintly about dinner, but he could not muster the energy to move.

Thorin didn't seem inclined to leave him, either. He did change positions, turning Bilbo carefully onto his side and lying down behind him, his thigh gently nudging against Bilbo's backside. Bilbo shuddered, turning his head to moan into the pillow, and Thorin bit at his neck, his large hand pressing possessively over Bilbo's stomach.

"I can't come again so soon," Bilbo whined, but he did rut back against Thorin's leg, enjoying the grind against his entrance. Thorin kissed an apology into his skin, against one of the bruises on his neck, and Bilbo sighed, sated and content.

"Rest, Bilbo," Thorin murmured, and Bilbo did, safer here than he had felt in a very long time.

~

Bilbo woke later to heavenly scents, and he sat up slowly with a groan, pulling up the cloth that was laying over his body and blinking at Thorin's figure on the other side of the room. He saw several takeout containers and realized that Thorin had ordered dinner, and he stretched slowly, groaning at the minute aches in his body.

He was still naked, but Thorin had left a shirt laying over Bilbo to preserve his dignity, what little Bilbo had left. He spotted the purple dildo on the floor, and he blushed brightly, choosing to ignore it, instead putting on the button-up. He realized then that it was not his own shirt, but Thorin's, as it hung off his frame, nearly to his thighs. Bilbo sighed when he stood, relieved that it at least covered his crotch, but he was still bemused at just how much larger than him Thorin was.

He came up behind Thorin, who was only wearing sleeping pants, reaching up to run his fingers down Thorin's spine and enjoying the way he shivered. "What did you order?" Bilbo asked, peering around Thorin, and he blinked at the sheer number of boxes. "Did you buy out the whole menu?"

Thorin glanced at his cheeky grin and grunted, though his mouth twitched upward in a smile. "A few different things. You can buy breakfast." He turned then and kissed Bilbo, and Bilbo sighed and leaned into him, wishing that Thorin lived closer, because he could get used to being spoiled like this.

"Come on, then, let's eat on the bed and watch terrible late night movies," Bilbo said, beaming, and he pressed a kiss to the whiskers on Thorin's chin, rather flirtatious and energetic after his nap. Instead of letting Thorin pick up the food, however, he slid his hands down into his pants and squeezed Thorin's very nice arse, pressing against his front at the same time. "Or we could go for round two," he whispered huskily, mouthing hotly at Thorin's neck.

Thorin reached up to grip Bilbo's chin and tilt his face up, scowling at him, but he was flushing again and Bilbo grinned at him, smug and delighted. He squeezed Thorin's backside again, grinding up against his front in a frankly lewd manner, and his actions paid off when Thorin grabbed him by the hips and pressed him against the wall, shoving his shirt up and pressing dry fingers to Bilbo's entrance.

"Reach into my pocket," Thorin growled, and Bilbo blinked but obeyed, then started laughing.

"You picked up the _lube_? Were you going to bend me over after dessert?" He was still laughing when Thorin kissed him and snatched the lube away, his broad shoulders a fantastic place for Bilbo to grab and hold onto tightly when Thorin held him against the wall with Bilbo's legs over his hips, spreading Bilbo open with slick fingers.

"You are a _menace_ to my control," Thorin muttered to himself, and then he was sliding into Bilbo, holding him up and letting the wall keep him steady as he thrust into him. Bilbo dug his fingers into Thorin's back and sighed against the thick hair of his beard, sucking a small mark into the skin of his neck.

It was filthy and fast and exactly what Bilbo wanted, and he felt sorry for the neighbors who had to listen to his moans and cries. Thorin was not as loud as he was, but his grunts and moans were enough to leave Bilbo shaking when he came. Thorin caught his mouth in a fervent kiss, and after a moment he slipped out of Bilbo entirely and dropped him to the ground, kneeling with him and wrapping Bilbo's hand around his erection, stroking fast with him. Bilbo shuddered at the loss of him, tightening his hand and looking down as he rested his head against Thorin's chest, watching as Thorin's hips rose and he began to spill over their fingers.

Bilbo looked up with a half-lidded gaze, and he did not break eye contact when he licked his fingers, smirking slowly at the dangerous glint in Thorin's eyes. He would pay for that later; for now, it was enough to enjoy Thorin's expression. He stood from Thorin's lap and went to find a towel, humming as he returned and cleaned both of them up. Thorin was still sitting on the floor, watching Bilbo with an almost dazed expression, as if he was unsure they had actually just had messy sex against the wall. Bilbo kissed his cheek and went to investigate what had been ordered.

Dinner was delicious. Thorin had found a fusion restaurant that made Casari and Periani dishes, which was absolutely perfect if anyone asked Bilbo, and they had a great variety of selections that Bilbo thoroughly enjoyed. 

They sat together on the bed with boxes spread between them, and Bilbo happily sampled everything, sharing with Thorin who told him about different dishes that his people had made, while Bilbo explained the Periani influences. Some foods, he devoured; and others, he ate slowly and carefully with his fingers, keeping his eyes on Thorin and preening whenever Thorin growled or made to grab for him. 

They made it through dinner and one ridiculous movie without incident. Thorin made disparaging comments about the main characters, and Bilbo happily paired different side characters together, in ways that he knew entertained Thorin, for the small laughs he would huff. After one such comment, Bilbo even caught Thorin looking away with shaking shoulders.

It was only when Bilbo was tucking into some sort of chocolate, nutty dessert (and oh, how he planned to reward Thorin for buying him chocolate) that their two-hour-long break ended. Bilbo realized, as he was licking his fingers of chocolate, that Thorin was no longer watching the movie. His eyes were fastened to Bilbo's mouth instead.

Bilbo's lips curled slightly, and that was the only warning Thorin got before he scooped up a healthy bite of whipped cream and slid his fingers into his mouth, sucking the treat slowly and meeting Thorin's gaze. Thorin's hands clenched at his sides, but he made no move to grab for Bilbo. Pleased, Bilbo lapped between his fingers and licked the chocolate from his palm, until his hand was sticky and clean. Then he set aside the box of dessert and reached down beneath Thorin's shirt, squeezing his cock and grinning when Thorin inhaled tightly.

"Ah, ah," Bilbo tsked when Thorin moved suddenly, reaching up with a bare foot and pressing it against Thorin's thigh. "Do you really want to do that, my dear engineer?"

"Bilbo," Thorin growled, making Bilbo's grin widen with glee.

"Remember that bit earlier about a foot job?"

With that tantalizing image, Thorin shut his mouth over clenched teeth and leaned back against the pillows, spreading his legs and giving Bilbo an expectant, lazy look that set him on edge. Bilbo retaliated in kind, scooting closer to Thorin and sitting between his ankles, reaching up with his feet to rub them slowly up the growing tent in Thorin's pajamas.

Bilbo knew he must make a tempting picture. Legs spread, cock peeking up from beneath Thorin's own shirt, his hair messy and curling around his face, giving Thorin quite the view of his entrance. Bilbo was eager for Thorin to shove him over and press into him, but he was also determined to watch Thorin as he fell apart.

He had never met someone so bent on consuming him, and somehow Bilbo relished every moment of it, anticipated Thorin's possessive glances and his controlling movements. It was nice, letting someone take care of him, and he could taunt and tease Thorin rather easily, with spectacular results. They were _very_ compatible sexually, and even more so because of the connection of _vanwe handë_ between them. Bilbo was more determined than ever to get Thorin's number; he did not want to let go of him.

Thorin's gaze never left Bilbo, though his eyes roamed from Bilbo's mouth, to his eyes, to his hand, to his cock, to his feet. He stayed still as Bilbo rubbed him slowly with his feet, and Bilbo's eyes fell to Thorin's cloth-covered cock. He licked his lips as the thin material stretched over the head of his cock, dampening with a bead of precome. Perhaps Thorin had anticipated Bilbo's change in focus, because he began to smirk, obnoxious enough that Bilbo shot him a frown.

"Like what you see, burglar?" Thorin rumbled, spreading his legs more and looking far too relaxed for Bilbo's taste. In response, he slipped his toes under Thorin's pants and tugged them down, freeing his heavy erection. Thorin grunted but did not move, his dark blue eyes fastened to Bilbo's face.

Bilbo had never been good at challenges. He always chose to answer them head-on, no matter how clumsy or inept he might be, and Thorin was no different. Bilbo curled his toes and slid them down over Thorin's length, smearing the precome and sliding down to rub Thorin's balls with the bottom of his foot.

"Bilbo," Thorin moaned, low and rough and so very close, and Bilbo had hardly started. But then, everything Thorin did was enough for him; so he took his feet away and twisted around to lay on his stomach, reaching up with his hand now and opening his mouth to lick a long strip up the underside of his cock.

Thorin shouted something wordless, which Bilbo took as encouragement, closing his eyes and sucking Thorin into his mouth. He could not be as thorough as he wanted, with Thorin's pajamas in the way, but he happily suckled and licked, as Thorin's fingers slid into his hair and gripped hard enough to make him moan.

His jaw ached, and spit slid down the side of his mouth, which Thorin wiped away. A moment later, Thorin's fingers pressed against his bare backside, slick and warm, and they pushed into his entrance easily. He rocked his hips against the bed, and he heard Thorin's breath hitch as Bilbo sucked harder on him.

He was not prepared, after Thorin's fingers left him, for his dildo to slide into him in their stead, stretching him and leaving him breathless. Thorin's hand pressed lightly against the base of it, after he had pushed it fully into Bilbo, and he held it there as Bilbo squirmed, using his hands now to tug Thorin's sleeping pants down and roll his balls in one hand, the other slipping down further to press deeper.

"Bilbo," Thorin moaned, leaning over him and pulling the dildo out, then sliding it in, changing the angle slightly each time until Bilbo shouted around his cock. Then he pressed against the same spot, again and again, while Bilbo whined and sucked harder, moving his mouth faster and thrusting his hips against the bed, first onto the dildo in Thorin's hand, then against the cool cloth.

 _No,_ Bilbo thought furiously, _I'll not come first this time!_ He responded by swallowing Thorin down as much as possible, stretching his lips over his girth, working his tongue against Thorin's slick length as he bobbed his head.

Thorin tugged sharply at his hair, shouting his name, and that was the only warning Bilbo got before hot liquid spilled down his throat. He drank greedily, lapping at the last of it as Thorin's shudders faded away, and Bilbo did not resist when he was tugged up by his hair, his mouth captured by Thorin's tongue. 

Bilbo was pulled up gently by Thorin's hands, his knees pushed apart, and Thorin took the dildo in hand once more, fucking it into Bilbo hard now. He cried out and broke the kiss, pressing his forehead to Thorin's shoulder, his body shaking as the dildo pressed against his prostate each time. He reached down with one hand and fisted himself, until at last his vision went white and he fell forward into Thorin's arms, trembling and mindless as he rode the dildo to completion.

Thorin slipped the dildo out of him and tossed it aside, gathering Bilbo close and holding him tight to his warm body, pressing a soft kiss to his curls. Bilbo looked up at him with a dazed smile, leaning up to kiss his chin with damp lips. 

Thorin watched him, his eyes dark and bright with knowledge that Bilbo could not know, emotions that he did not understand. "Stay with me tonight," Thorin murmured, kissing Bilbo's mouth softly. "Please," he added in a whisper, and the small, plaintive tone of his voice caught at Bilbo's heart.

"Yes," he kissed into Thorin's mouth, curling up and relaxing into him. Whatever they could share tonight, whatever he could have, he would take gladly, and give Thorin whatever he wanted in return.

~

Bilbo woke early the next morning, long before Thorin did, the hotel room cool and dark with the thick curtains drawn shut. Thorin's arm was heavy across his stomach, but Bilbo _really_ had to pee, and he squirmed his way to the edge of the bed until he could dart out from under the covers to the washroom.

When he turned on the light, he flinched at the brightness, and slowly his eyes grew accustomed to the light. When Bilbo saw his reflection, though, he stepped back in shock, staring at the number of bruises, hickeys, love marks, and even nail indents that Thorin had left on his body. He realized how very _sore_ he was, after the number of times Thorin had penetrated him, which still left him amazed.

He relieved himself and found a clean washcloth, gently wiping down his body, until he felt a little more normal. He eyed the shower longingly, but he was just as eager to return to Thorin's side, so he finished checking himself in the mirror and returned to the room, leaving the light on.

He froze briefly when he saw gleaming eyes on the bed, a small smile breaking over his face as he realized Thorin was awake. Thorin eyed him muzzily, then turned away from the light and grunted. Bilbo beamed. He crawled into the blankets beside the taller man, tucking his knees up against Thorin's thighs and snickering when Thorin flinched at his cold toes.

"Morning," Bilbo murmured shyly, pressing a kiss to one of the bones of Thorin's spine as he slid his hand around. Thorin reached up to take his hand, squeezing his fingers before kissing them, slow and lazy, and Bilbo shivered at the intimacy between them.

"You left the light on," Thorin grumbled against Bilbo's fingers, nipping them lightly, and Bilbo snickered against his neck.

"Not a morning person, are we?" Bilbo asked, sly and impish.

The heavy pause left Bilbo laughing even harder, muffled by Thorin's broad back.

"I should have known." Thorin sounded pained, and Bilbo grinned against his warm skin, kissing him and sucking lightly at his shoulder blade. He wondered how many marks he had left on Thorin; the thought made him smirk.

"It's not so bad. Have a cup of tea early with a scone, do some chores, have a lovely breakfast, run some errands, fix up some brunch, get started in the garden... it's a very finely tuned schedule," Bilbo told him self-importantly, and Thorin muttered something rather rude against his hand.

In retaliation, Bilbo stuck a finger in Thorin's mouth, but this was his downfall; Thorin lavished it with great attention, and Bilbo was left aching with a small gasp.

"Incorrigible," he moaned softly, his stirring prick nudging awkwardly against Thorin's backside. Thorin had shown absolutely no interest in switching positions with Bilbo the night before, which fit right into Bilbo's preferences, but he couldn't help imagining it for a moment, pressing the tip of a second finger against Thorin's lips. 

He was much too sore for any further penetration, but they had plenty of options to choose from for a morning quickie. Thorin sucked Bilbo's second finger into his mouth, groaning softly against his hand, and he fumbled in the sheets for a nearly empty tube.

Bilbo peeked over his shoulder, watching dazedly as Thorin took his damp hand and squeezed some of the viscous liquid onto his fingers, then slid both their hands down together, to rub between Thorin's thighs. Bilbo gasped as he realized what Thorin meant for him to do, and he moved his arm to a better position for it. Slowly he spread the sticky substance across Thorin's thighs, his skin scorchingly hot to Bilbo's fingers.

When Bilbo slid his small, thick cock between Thorin's thighs, he moaned loudly into his broad back, shuddering as Thorin squeezed his thighs. "Bilbo," Thorin groaned, wrapping both their hands around his thick cock, and Bilbo stroked him in time with his short, quick thrusts.

The slick slide against him, the heat of his back, the strength in his calves as he held them just right for Bilbo to thrust between -- it was enough to made him quiver with need. Somehow Thorin trusted him a great deal, mirroring Bilbo's almost instant confidence that Thorin would take care of him.

After a moment, Bilbo could take no more, and he pushed himself away from Thorin, reaching up to tug him onto his back and climbing onto his hips, settling his weight firmly on Thorin's thighs. Thorin stared up at him, flushed and surprised, and Bilbo lined up their pricks together and stroked, at the same time that he rocked his hips against Thorin's body.

They both gasped, and Thorin's hand wrapped around Bilbo's fingers, tightening his grip and guiding his hand up and down. He let go, giving control completely over to Thorin, and rested his hands on Thorin's knees behind him, shuddering as he thrust into Thorin's hot grip.

Thorin stared up at him, a thrilled, awed expression on his face, as if he scarcely believed that Bilbo was real. "Come on," he grunted, tightening his grip over their cocks and thrusting up at the same time that Bilbo did, making him cry out.

He should be sore, and aching, and miserable right now -- but everything Thorin did made him feel _better_. He would have to drink a gallon of water later, to replace all the fluids Thorin had drained out of him, but Bilbo was happier than he had been in a long time. No one had ever fulfilled his needs so easily, so perfectly. No one had ever completed him.

"Thorin," he moaned helplessly, staring down into Thorin's blue eyes and shuddering as Thorin tightened his grip.

"Bilbo," Thorin whispered, leaning up suddenly to kiss him, and it was the simple press of his mouth against Bilbo's lips that sent him over the edge.

Afterwards, they lay together panting for some time, slow to catch their breath, until finally Bilbo managed to voice the most important thought of the morning.

"Shall we order breakfast?"

Thorin's groan was deep and heartfelt, and Bilbo laughed joyfully, rising to meet him for a kiss.

~

"I should probably go see how Guthrie is doing," Bilbo said over coffee later, freshly cleaned and wearing one of Thorin's shirts. He sat with his legs tucked to his chest, watching Thorin laze about in the morning sunlight. His phone had died sometime during the night, and Thorin's charger had been far too advanced for Bilbo's pitiful device, so he had gone without it. He had no idea what his friend was doing, and he dreaded Guthrie's glee over Bilbo staying the night with his -- whatever Thorin was to him. Different than a partner of anything, definitely a sexual interest (and then some), and more than a conquest.

If only they lived near each other. He fiddled with his phone, halfheartedly hoping the screen would turn on if he pushed the power button again, but it remained dark. "Did you travel far to get here?" he asked Thorin, peeking over the rim of his cup. Thorin shrugged, a small smile tugging at his mouth.

"I suppose so. I never do well with long stretches of travel, and I hadn't wanted to be here in the first place, but I found something worthwhile for the trip," he said, eyeing Bilbo pointedly, and Bilbo blushed, pleased and embarrassed, yet disappointed at the same time.

So Thorin didn't like to travel. He probably wouldn't do well with a long-distance relationship, then, which dampened his spirits considerably for a moment. Then he met Thorin's gaze and smiled, with renewed determination. He could make it work. He loved the Shire, but it might be nice to explore the rest of the world, maybe teach philosophy again. He could ask Mithrandir for a good contact somewhere near where Thorin lived.

"I've really got to go to my room. Get a change of clothes, make sure my friend is still in one piece," he said, standing as he finished his coffee. He promptly tripped over his dildo on the floor and turned bright red, hurriedly picking it up and nearly dropping it.

"Hurry back," Thorin murmured with a grin, his gaze half-lidded and amused as Bilbo fumbled with his belongings, suddenly bashful. He grinned back, hopeful and pleased; maybe Thorin would like to try something long-distance, after all.

Any hope of seeing Thorin again was thoroughly ruined when Bilbo reached Guthrie's room, though.

"Bilbo! You've got to hurry, your train's leaving in twenty minutes," Guthrie gushed worriedly, shoving clothing and papers into Bilbo's arms. Bilbo stared at him, wide-eyed, and Guthrie pushed at him.

"What? I thought it was this afternoon," Bilbo said faintly, still shocked.

"No, I read the time wrong. Your phone was off! I texted you ages ago, and I didn't know where you were. I'm sorry, Bilbo, you've got to hurry," Guthrie said, and Bilbo spent the next five minutes throwing his belongings together, all the while thinking furiously of the two floors separating him and Thorin.

"Guthrie, maybe I can take a minute or two and --"

"Sorry, mate, you just don't have time. There won't be another train to the Shire for two days, and you've got class tomorrow, right? Just get breakfast on the train, and I'll mail you anything you forget." Somehow, Guthrie made sure Bilbo had all of his belongings, and he ran him to the elevator and down to the lobby, all but pushing Bilbo to the trolley outside.

Bilbo hurried, but he kept looking back, thinking of Thorin who was waiting for him. The urge to turn around and run back to him was overwhelming, but Guthrie hadn't lied; his train was leaving very shortly, and Bilbo just couldn't miss it.

They made it to the station with two minutes to spare, and Bilbo breathed out against the ache in his chest, looking up at Minas Tirith anxiously. Guthrie watched him, confused, as Bilbo hesitated by the train doors.

"Bilbo, aren't you going to board? The door's about to close!"

"I know," Bilbo said, miserable. "I just -- I met someone, okay? That man from yesterday. He's _amazing_ and I just -- I haven't even got his number! He lives far away, and I don't know if I'll ever see him again. I told him I'd be right back."

"Oh," Guthrie said, subdued and horrified. "I'm so sorry, Bilbo."

"I know," Bilbo replied quietly. "Thanks, Guthrie. I'll send you a message once my phone is charged, okay? And, maybe, if you see him... get his number for me?" He tried to smile, but he just couldn't muster the energy. Only seconds before the doors closed, Bilbo slipped inside and went to find his seat, his chest aching sharply, furiously, with the knowledge that he had just left something very important behind.

 _I'm such a fool,_ Bilbo thought angrily, looking out the window and watching the white city grow smaller and smaller. Somewhere in that city was a brilliant, perfect, amazing man who was _harwë_ to him. "Thorin," he whispered, already missing him.

For months afterward, Bilbo regretted ever walking away from him.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Set Your Heart On This Far Shore](https://archiveofourown.org/works/7444498) by [one_go_alone](https://archiveofourown.org/users/one_go_alone/pseuds/one_go_alone)




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